


Broken Shards

by cleste09



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-07 23:18:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4281789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cleste09/pseuds/cleste09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When everything comes to a point in which you just can't hang on anymore, what would you do? Push the one person you cherish the most away...?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Shards

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warning: Suicide. 
> 
> Badly written as usual and I'm in a bad place especially after that hectic British GP. Anyway, it also sort of strengthened my suspicions that Ferrari had long made the decision to kick Kimi out. 
> 
> The story doesn't tell us much about what sort of struggles Kimi was going through but just a short depiction of how he decided to push Seb away. 
> 
> As usual, I do not own any characters here and this did not happen in real life. TQ.

_Your smile. It always mesmerises me. I always can’t help but to smirk whenever you get animated whenever you are trying to make a joke about something, telling me various stories that you had come across during the various travels around the world or even back home._

_Your smile. I will cherish it so much as they were always directed at me. That genuine smile. Let me keep it in my mind forever…_

…

We were in Silverstone, the home of UK motorsport and also the venue of the British Grand Prix. It was sunny, which was weird at some levels as you know, British weather ain’t like this. Looking up at the blue skies on Friday, I thought this might be the race to show that they shouldn’t have let me off.

Friday went by rather uneventful apart from the slight glitch with the MGU-H. The long runs were okay and I was comfortable with the short runs too. Looking at the time sheets, noticing that I was ahead of you, it made me smile slightly. Fridays mean nothing but it was always a nice feeling to beat you in a way, being competitive bastards that we are.

Also, Friday. This particular Friday. It was something special anyway. It was your birthday. Wishing you already before we arrived in the paddock, I repeated the birthday wishes again in the pits after the 2nd practice, just to put a bit of show in front of the PR people, knowing they would want to have some photos to be posted on social media. The way your smile lighted up your whole face melted me further. Your smile. It’s the one thing I would miss the most.

Later that day, in the evening, we celebrated your birthday together with the team. Standing at the far side, in a corner watching on, I saw how you fidgeted, a bit embarrassed as you stood behind a table where the big birthday cake was on. The team started singing and you just awkwardly sang along. It was a funny sight. I know you. I know you don’t like being in the middle of attention but you had to. To you, it was something like a coping mechanism, to show that you were worth more than what other people may be saying.

After the celebrations and eating some cake, I left without saying anything. I couldn’t stay on, seeing how happy you were, how you had blended into the team so well, fitted in like a glove to a hand. It was like a stab to the wound I have been spotting since 2008. It had never healed. Yet here I was, back in this team. But nothing had changed even when I had been insisting to everyone, the air is different, definitely different. But deep down, roots will never change. They were the same.

Getting back to the hotel, I laid on the bed, staring at the ceiling. How was I going to break the news to you, when you had made every effort to make sure we could be teammates for at least one season? How was I to see and endure the disappointment, the sadness, the non-willingness to accept the fact that this, everything we had, will end? Letting out a huge sigh, I let myself drift off to a dreamless sleep.

…

Crossing the line, Dave came onto the radio and alerted that I was P5, ahead of you. I was a bit surprised, knowing that you were always better in qualifying. But I was pleased. At least it showed them that I wasn’t an old man who couldn’t qualify well anymore. I wouldn’t admit it to anyone but yes, being criticised day in day out about how I suck at qualifying hurts a lot. A hell lot. But being the Iceman as I was, the image that I had kept up with for many years, there was no reason to let it break anyway. I just took it in my stride.

The debrief was sporting a weird atmosphere. I knew why. They didn’t want me out qualifying you. They wanted to protect you, like how they had done back then with other drivers. You were their future. I understood. I just sat there, listening on as you were fidgeting in your chair as always, but there was an air of disappointment radiating out of you. Of course you were disappointed. You always wanted to beat everyone, just like how I want to be ahead of everyone. It was in our DNA.

A look at Maurizio told me what I needed to know. The “family” image was just a facade. It was always just a one driver’s team. But I just swallowed everything in. You never noticed, but it was past breaking point. Right after the end of the debrief, I left before you could even stop me for a chat.

That night, everything settled into place. I wasn’t part of them anymore. I had never been part of them, even when I’ve brought home glory once before. Staring at the ceiling, maybe… it should all end soon.

…

The race was a complete disaster. The wet/dry conditions were my weakness in this Pirelli era and true enough, I couldn’t even handle what little temperature and grip there were before it started to pour. As you had overtook me, I thought there was no harm in trying to take a risk, which turned out to be the biggest disaster ever.

Taking off my helmet, I immediately heard the whispers of the reporters. I could hear how they were talking about Maurizio telling the media it was the drivers who at the end, makes the decision to come in. Yes, I took the decision. Yes, it wasn’t the right one. But clearly, to Maurizio, there was no “we” on my side of the garage. It was always “I”, only me, never part of the “we win and lose as a team”. It never applied to me.

After all the interviews, I went for the debrief, which had the coldest atmosphere ever. I knew everyone were blaming me. I took it as it was. Maurizio was clearly pissed as I had lost so many points while you were clearly on the podium again, making the right call at the right time.

“It was unfortunate. Not his fault as the conditions were difficult,” you said, trying to diffuse a clearly very awkward situation.

“Yes, but we already said at that point of time, it wasn’t the right time to come in,” Maurizio said defiantly.

“I take the blame, let’s move on shall we?” I said out of the blue, everyone turning to have a look at me.

The debrief then ended rather hastily. I left without letting you have the chance to intercept me.

…

It was Monday, on the private jet I was sharing with you to head back to Zurich. We sat awkwardly, facing each other as the plane took off.

“I’m leaving,” I said out of the blue after the stewardess served us drinks.

“What?!” you spluttered as you nearly spit out the sip of drink you were having.

“I’m leaving. They are not keeping me. I already knew it 2 races ago,” I said, sipping on the double shot espresso in my hands.

“No… They can’t do that! It’s too early… to make such a decision!” you said and it surprised me how frantic and badly you were taking the news.

I shrugged, not adding anything on.

“I think we should keep our distance from now on… It’ll.. It’ll be better that way,” I said after a long silence.

Your shattered look broke my heart but it was the only way forward. It was the only way to diffuse the pain towards the end of the year. We were good friends, we worked well as teammates, but I would never, ever let you know how much you meant to me, how much you had kept me sane in this political business that is Formula 1.

I looked away, finishing up my espresso. We remained silent until we parted ways at Zurich airport. But I knew you weren’t taking this well. The glimpse that I had caught of you trying to wipe away a stray tear thinking that I wasn’t looking broke me further.

…

Maranello. A place with bittersweet memories. The place where I was celebrated as a world champion. Also the place where I had been slated and released from my contract in a very cold way.

I was back here once again, facing the same situation.

I was there to clear my things even when it was just late July. I was there for simulator work but… I wanted to clear everything, for this place to be devoid from anything related to me.

After the hard day’s work, I went to the special locker room where I kept some of my stuff there. Taking the things out and stuffing them into my bag, I thought back to the time when you broke the news to me that you were joining Ferrari.

_“We are going to be teammates! I told you, I will make sure it happens!” you said with a smugness that made me want to not only smack you, but kiss you. But of course, kissing was out of the equation._

_“I know. You always kept your word,” I said, ruffling his hair, which of course, made him feel a bit like a little child but you never said no or complained about it._

_“Here’s to many more years of being teammates!” you had said with such exuberance but I had that tinge of sadness in my heart. Because back then, I already knew, there wouldn’t be many more years._

A loud knock on the door brought me back to the present. I looked up. You were standing there, looking at me sheepishly.

We hadn’t been in close contact ever since I broke the news to you, keeping the contacts minimal and work-related. Seeing you there, it made me feel weird.

We just looked at each other. There were no need for words. You knew it was a goodbye. You knew what I was going to do.

“Please, don’t,” you had said in a broken voice.

I looked away, looking down at the bag in my hand.

“It’s for the best,” I said, slinging the bag onto my shoulders, I walked past him without looking back because if I do, I wouldn’t be sure I could keep the tears at bay.

…

_August 19, 2015: Formula 1 racer and 2007 World Champion Kimi Räikkönen was found dead in his home in Zurich, Switzerland early today. The Ferrari driver was unconscious and not breathing when paramedics and police arrived at the scene upon being informed at around 2:24am local time. It was said that the police had found 2 empty pill bottles at the scene. Investigations into the cause of death is underway but police suspects this as a suicide…_

“No….” Sebastian sat on the sofa, staring at the news report Britta had forwarded to him, unable to read anymore. 

He couldn’t believe it. No. This wasn’t happening. How could this have happened?

He wasn’t acting oddly, other than pushing him away after the British Grand Prix.

How could he had not prevented this from happening…? How? What kind of friend he was to not detect the sadness, depression and helplessness he was feeling?

He let the tears fall. He allowed himself to wail out loud. He had lost someone so important in his life. His friend, his teammate. The one he didn’t dare to tell that he had loved him, loved him enough to even take the risks of switching teams to just be teammates with him. 

Now, there wasn’t a chance for him to tell him that. There was no chance for him to continue working with him. 

“Kimi….” he whimpered, crying messily as he mourned.

His best mate, gone forever.

But, he will never stop loving him... 

 

 


End file.
